


Strangers on a Bus

by Willaphyx



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willaphyx/pseuds/Willaphyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From an anonymous request on Tumblr: “idk you but you fell asleep on my shoulder on the bus and the only reason i’m letting you stay there is bc you look very comfy and i’m a good person - it’s totally not bc you’re also possibly the cutest and most precious human being i have ever seen hahah okay maybe a lil” au pls</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Surprisingly the worst thing about medical school wasn’t the crazy course load, or the hard ass professors, or even the fact that she averaged about six hours of sleep a week.  No, the worst part about med school was that she had to take the bus whenever she wanted to go home.  It was a ten hour trek from Boston’s South Station to DC and Clarke hated every minute of it.

This trip, however, was turning out to be not so bad.  The first leg from Boston to New York had been its usual hellish self.  She’d been a bit late and therefore had been stuck over a wheel well next to a woman who probably had the plague.  And of course Clarke was licensed to make a decision on this because she was in her third year of med school and so she knew these things.

The second leg, however, the five hours between NYC and DC was shaping up to be a very different story.  Because she was sitting next to a very handsome stranger who not only smelled and dressed extremely nice, but had also fallen asleep on her shoulder.

(and in case you were wondering, the only reason Clarke knew he smelled nice was because his hair was  _right there_ so of course she wasn’t going to be able to help herself.)

Usually on buses Clarke was that person who put up a militant wall between herself and the person next to her.  The armrest was  _hers_ , bitch, and you better get your goddamn sweaty forearm off it.  This situation was no different, no really _it wasn’t_.

The only reason she wasn’t elbowing this guy repeatedly in the ribs until he woke up (like she had on multiple occasions) was because he looked even more exhausted than she felt.  And that was an accomplishment.  It totally wasn’t because he was hot.  Because he absolutely was hot.  But that totally wasn’t why she was…Okay.  Okay.  It was because he was hot.

And his hair was soft, too, and it brushed up against her cheek, and yeah, okay she was tired so she was going to fall asleep with this extremely cute stranger’s head on her shoulder and hope this didn’t get awkward later because that would be unfortunate.

She came back to consciousness somewhere between Baltimore and DC.  The stranger was still passed out cold but he had moved his head while she was out and now his nose was pressed against her neck.  And his skin was warm.  And he still smelled nice.  Clarke took a calming breath.  This was good.  This was all good.  This was just some random guy on a bus.  She could deal with it.  The fact that she hadn’t gotten any action in months (she had a lot of schoolwork, okay?) totally was not going to play a role in this situation.

Her inner monologue with herself lasted another ten minutes until with a small (and okay, yes, really endearing) grunt, he shifted his head and then rocketed up in his seat.

There were lines across his cheek from the stitching on his cardigan and his hair was flat on one side and  _damn_ , he was really cute.

He looked over at her and there was a wariness in his eyes.  “Sorry,” he said, in a deep voice that was still a bit rough from sleep.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”  He checked his watch.  “Shit, I wasn’t on your shoulder for the last two and a half hours was I?”

She shrugged helplessly and offered a small smile.

“ _Fuck,”_ he muttered.

“It’s fine,” she said, going for breezy.  It came out strangled instead.  He didn’t seem to notice.

He smiled sheepishly at her and rubbed his face.  “I’m Bellamy, by the way,” he offered, holding out a hand.

“Clarke,” she responded.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said as he shook her hand.  “What brings you to DC?”

“Headed home to Virginia for my spring break.  I’m in med school at BU.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”  He sounded impressed.  That shouldn’t have made Clarke feel that fuzzy on the inside.  It shouldn’t have made Clarke feel anything.

“What about you?” she asked quickly.  “You also a local?”

He shook his head.  “Nah.  I’ve actually never been before.”  He paused.  “My little sister’s getting married.  On the National Mall.”

“Well, that’s fancy.  I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Her fiancee does something fancy and top secret for the government.  I don’t actually know what it is.”

Clarke laughed.  He smiled.

“Guess that explains it,” she said softly and he nodded.

“What part of Virginia?”

“Alexandria.  Right over the Potomac.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as the bus pulled into the station.

“Sorry, again for falling asleep on your shoulder,” he said as she stood to get his bag.

She shook her head, also standing.  “Don’t worry about it.”  She took a deep breath.   _Was she really going to do this?  Yes.  Yes she was going to do this._   “Hey, Bellamy?”

He turned, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but if you want a tour guide…well, I have a whole week ahead of me.”

He grinned.  “Only if you agree to be my date to my sister’s wedding.”

She froze.  “You don’t even know me!”

He shrugged.  “So?  Anyway, it’s not for five days.  I’ve got lots of time to get to know you.”  He pulled a business card out of his backpack.  “Call me tomorrow yeah?  We’ll get coffee.”

Then he was gone, hurrying down the center aisle with the flow of traffic.  Clarke looked down at the card and the neat printing there.   _Bellamy Blake, Scholar in Residence_  it read under the header  _New York University, Department of History_.

She smiled to herself.  Well, all right then.  Maybe 10 hour bus trips weren’t that bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Abby had been surprisingly gung ho about Clarke meeting Bellamy the next day, despite the fact that he was a man she had never met and who her daughter had spoken to for literally all of ten minutes on a bus, nonetheless.  She’d even offered to take her dress shopping in a couple days to buy something for the wedding.

Clarke supposed that that said something particularly unsavory about how dry her love life had been lately.

So that was how she came to be here, sitting in a chair in her favorite coffee shop, just a few blocks from the Lincoln Memorial, twisting the protective sleeve around and around her coffee cup, waiting for Bellamy.

She’d texted him the night before telling him to meet her here.  He’d responded almost immediately and enthusiastically with a  _I’ll be there!_  and several smiley faces.  Which was awfully forward wasn’t it?  Weren’t smiley faces like romantic?  She’d stared at them for a minute before texting one back herself.  And then nothing.  Which would have been fine.

Except he was late.

Clarke was really hoping she hadn’t been stood up.  Because even though she barely knew the guy that would be embarrassing.  And she was kind of looking forward to the wedding.  Because seriously, how many times did you get to go to an event on the  _National Mall?_

Someone slid into the chair across from her, and Clarke looked up from where she’d been intensely studying the grain of the table to see a smiling but windblown Bellamy Blake, smiling shyly at her.  And damn, he was adorable with his hair all mussed like that.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he panted.  “My sister had a flower crisis and then I got lost on the metro.”

She smiled.  “It’s totally fine, don’t worry about it.”

“So what does the all-knowing local have in store for me today?” he asked, with a mischievous smile that made a lump form in Clarke’s throat.

“I have tickets for the hop on/hop off tour?  They were in our kitchen drawer and god knows my parents are never going to use them.”

He grinned. “Sounds great.”

* * *

If Clarke hadn’t already known that Bellamy was into history, she would have figured it out fast.

On the tour he insisted on sitting as close to the guide as they could so he could ask extremely in-depth questions that prompted gigantic spiels and more questions.  The entire time he stared out the window at the passing sights like a kid in a candy store, eyes bright with delight.

She practically had to pry him away from the National Archives with a crowbar and at lunch he almost vibrated out of his chair when she asked if he wanted to visit JFK’s gravesite at Arlington Cemetery.

If it hadn’t been one of the cutest things she’d ever seen, she might have been a bit embarrassed.  But it was hard to be when he’d put a casual arm around her to guide her in the direction to look at something.

“Look, Clarke,” he’d say.  “Isn’t it incredible?”

And she’s smile and lean into his side a little and try to pretend she wasn’t just his guide for the day and that maybe this was something that she wouldn’t have to give up in five days.

As they were getting out of her car in the Arlington Cemetery, Clarke finally asked, “So you’re a history professor?”

He nodded.  “Yep.  I primarily teach ancient cultures but I’ve taught more modern history as well.”

“And a scholar in residence?” she continued.  “That’s pretty prestigious.”

He ducked his head to hide a small smile, almost as if he was embarrassed.  “Yeah, I got lucky.”

“I didn’t agree to be the wedding date of an 85-year old who looks 60 years younger than he actually is did I?” she teased.

He laughed.  “No.  But I’m not 25, either.”  He looked over at her, as if to judge if this was going to be a problem.  She raised her eyebrows.  “I’m 32,” he added.

“27,” she replied.  “I took a couple years off between high school and undergrad.  Worked my way across Europe.”

He sighed.  “That sounds incredible.  I wish I’d had the chance to do something like that.”

As they passed the seemingly never ending lines of impeccably straight white tombstones she looked over at him curiously.  “Why didn’t you?  If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Octavia.  My sister,” he added at her confused expression.  “Our dad was never around and our mom died just after I turned 19 and O was still a minor.  I had to fight the courts to keep custody of her and then I had to put us both through college.”

Clarke stared at him, a sudden and felt a new appreciation for this man erupt in her.  “That’s incredible, Bellamy,” she said softly.

He shrugged.  “It’s what anyone would do for their sibling.”

She shook her head.  “No, it’s not.”

He looked over at her and met her eyes and he must have seen something there because he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders again.  “Thanks, Clarke.”

* * *

“So,” he said, “as they joined the small crowd in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in anticipation of the Changing of the Guard, “you’re in med school?”

She nodded.  “Yep.  Third year.”

“One more left,” he said with a smile. “That’s got to be crazy.”

She heaved a deep breath.  “Yeah, I’m terrified of being out of school, if I’m being honest.  Though I have a few contacts for residencies lined up so I shouldn’t have an issue getting one.”

“That’s good,” he said in an appreciative tone that shouldn’t have made her feel as warm as it did.  “What vein of medicine are you looking at going into?”

She grinned at him.  “Pun intended?”

He made a face.  “No.”

She laughed.  “Probably orthopedic surgery.  My mom was a surgeon so I grew up around it.”

“Was?”

“She’s on the board now.  Worked her way up.”

“Ah,” he said as three impeccably dressed soldiers saluted the tomb.  “That’s impressive.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Yep.”

He looked at her curiously.  “Do you and your mom have issues?”

She bit her lip.  “Sometimes.  She’s just very forceful.  She always wanted me to go into medicine.  And I love it, I do, but I just never really had a choice, you know?”

He nodded and looked back out at the white marble sarcophagus.  “I know what you mean.”  He paused.  “I always wanted to go into archaeology.  That’s why I took history as an undergrad with minors in archaeology and Latin.  But then Mom died and I couldn’t be gone for entire summers at a time with Octavia.  So I killed myself in grad school, got my PhD in history and took teaching classes at night.”

She looked at him curiously.  There was no bitterness in his voice as she might have expected.  “Wow,” she said, not sure what else there was to say to that.

He laughed.  “I love my job, don’t get me wrong.  Seeing the enthusiasm that you can inspire in someone is…well, it’s incredible.”

Clarke thought back to earlier that day and his own excitement as he studied the monuments and DC’s other landmarks and thought that maybe, just maybe she knew a little of what he meant.

“So, tour guide,” he said teasingly, “what’s next?”

She smiled and thought.  “How do you feel about the best tacos in the DC metropolitan area?”

A giant smile split his face.  “You, Clarke Griffin, just might be my dream girl.”

As they headed back to her car, Clarke couldn’t help but think  _if only he wasn’t joking.  If only he was serious.  If only I really was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come cry with me on [Tumblr?](maytheymeeetagain.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding that everyone has been waiting for. Featuring nervous Clarke and extremely awkwardly cute Bellamy.

Clarke saw a lot more of Bellamy Blake over the next four days than she'd originally been intending.  His sister's wedding was on the Saturday.  It was Thursday and she still didn't have a dress, her nails were a mess, and she was digging through her makeup bag, cursing at the products that had satisfied her just fine before.

Abby was leaning in the doorway of her bathroom, smiling just the slightest bit.

Clarke didn't need to ask why either.  It had been a long time since she'd been this nervous and excited about going anywhere with a guy.

"So," Abby said after Clarke shoved aside the third blush she'd dug out of her bathroom drawers.  "Do you want to go look at dressed today?"

Clarke's head snapped up.  "Dresses.  Yes.  Yes, I need a dress."

Abby laughed.  "Leave in thirty?"

Clarke had already returned to sorting through her makeup.  "Yeah, sure," she replied distractedly.  "But we're going to need to make a stop at Sephora, too."

 

Three hours later, Clarke had purchased an entirely new set of makeup and had a dress.  And a nice one at that.  It was a floor length wine-colored and sleeveless number with lattice work over the chest and back that allowed cutouts of her creamy skin to show through and looked  _damn fabulous_ , as the changing room attendant had commented.

So now she just had to wait.  She'd seen Bellamy every day since their first day of sightseeing and she'd taken him around to some of her other favorite less-well-known locales as well as indulging his desire to spend literally an entire day in the Smithsonian's Museum of American History.  granted, Clarke had never had so much fun in a history museum.  He explained things in a way that made history both fun and exciting, and Clarke now had no issues picturing him as a professor.  She was sure he was a fabulous one.

He'd told her yesterday that she wouldn't see him until the day of the wedding because he had important "brotherly/best man duties."  She'd laughed at that and he'd smiled then tugged her on into the section about the Civil War and launched into a lecture about why the Confederates wore gray and the Union soldiers blue.

Clarke would never tell but she was starting to find his history nerdiness extremely adorable.  It was becoming a struggle to not just reach up and kiss him when he had that light in his eyes and he started moving his hands around and ugh, she was blushing just thinking about it.

And God help her, these were going to be a long two days without Bellamy.

Her phone chirped in her pocket and she pulled it out then smiled to see his name on the screen.

_You bored out of your mind without me yet?_

_Someone's cocky._

She knew that if he were there with her he'd be grinning that wide grin that made her go a bit weak at the knees.

_Only because I know it's true._

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling too hard.

 _All right, you got me_.

_I knew it. ;)_

She stared at her screen.  They'd been exchanging smiley faces for days but winky faces were an escalation, weren't they?  You didn't just send a winky emoticon to the random chick you met on the bus.  But then again, neither did you go all over the city with the random girl you met on the bus or invite said girl to your sister's wedding.

_So I don't see you for the next couple days, right?_

_Right._

_Sorry, princess._

She smiled and tried to ignore the fact that her heart twinged a bit at the use of the pet name.

_It's okay, I get it._

She stared at her phone for a second, then started typing slowly.

_Just means you have to pay extra attention to me at the wedding._

His response was immediate.

_Oh, there was never a doubt. ;) ;)_

_See you in two days, princess._

_Oh, and O wants you in the pictures (despite the fact that she's never met  
you.  I'll text you the details tomorrow._

Clarke stared at her phone.  His sister wanted her in pictures?  What the hell?

She didn't text back because she knew from experience she wouldn't get a reply.  Instead, she just hung up the garment bag the dress was in on one of her closet door and flopped backwards onto her bed.  All this worrying about the wedding of two people she'd never even met before was exhausting her.

 

The next two days went by faster than Clarke had been anticipating and hoping for.  The next thing she knew it was Saturday and she was eating her morning bowl of Lucky Charms (yes, she was aware that most people grew out of those by the time they left middle school) and attempting to read the paper but Abby's staring at her over the crossword puzzle Clarke had pulled out for her was distracting.

Finally Clarke couldn't take it anymore.  She flipped down the top of the paper and glared at her mother.  "What?"

"Are you excited?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation like eight times over the last week."

Abby chuckled.  "I can't help it.  I haven't seen you this excited over a guy in years."

"Yeah," Clarke grumbled.  "Don't remind me."

Her mother squeezed her shoulder as she got up.  "Well, I've got some work to do at the hospital so I won't be here to see you off.  Have fun. And don't drink and drive."

"I'm pretty sure Bellamy mentioned something about his sister inclduing me in their hotel reservation." She looked up to see Abby's raised eyebrows and expectant look. "Don't give me that look.  Go do your work."

Her mother's laugh echoed through the house as Clarke tried, unsuccessfully, to return to the previously riveting front page article about a proposed oil pipeline in northern Canada.

Luckily Clarke's years of being forced into attending hospital galas had made her an expert at practically dislocating her own shoulder in order to zip up her own dressed all the way and she stood in front of the mirror for a minute, admiring the way that the dress hugged her curves in all the right places.

 _He'll love it_ , Abby had said to her when she'd first tried it on.

And Clarke sincerely hoped she was right.  Not that she was dressing for Bellamy or anything.  But it would be nice if he did.  Like it that was.

She took extra time on her hair, twisting it and wrapping it and putting in so many bobby pins that she knew she'd never find all of them until she tried to brush her hair and ended up ripping them (and most of her hair) out later.  After she finished her makeup, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and smiled.

Show time.

 

Octavia and her fancy government employee Lincoln were in fact getting married on the National Mall, right in front of the Washington Monument.

At first when he'd told her, Clarke had thought Bellamy was joking.  Then he'd mentioned it again.  And again, in passing.  And she realized that he actually wasn't kidding.

And seriously, what kind of job did you have to have to get that kind of privilege?  Who was his sister marrying, the President?

She'd considered taking the metro in but had decided against it once she'd bought her dress.  Wearing a formal gown on the subway was a surefire way to get a lot of weird looks and comments that she was hardly interested in putting up with today.  Even though she doubted they would have had much of an effect.  She felt like she was floating.

Which was ridiculous.  Right?  She'd known this man for all of five days.  She'd met him on a  _bus_ for God's sake.  And now she was his date to the wedding of his sister who she'd never met.  This had to be the craziest thing she'd ever done.  There was no way any of her friends back at school would believe this.

She found Bellamy on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, right where he'd said he'd be, staring in awe at the statue.

"Hey," she said softly, after she'd taken a moment to appreciate his figure in a well-cut black tuxedo.

He spun, a smile breaking across his face.  Her heart squeezed.  He was unfairly handsome, the black and white of the tux contrasting perfectly against his tanned skin.  "Hey," he repeated, the word dying a little in his throat as he took her in.  "Wow, Clarke, you look...you look incredible."

She blushed a little and looked down just for a second.  "Thank you."

"Really," he said, sounding almost more in awe of her than he had when he was looking at the Declaration of Independence earlier in the week.  He touched the strap of her dress lightly and she shivered at the warmth of his finger through the fabric.  "This color, it's magical on you."

She was saved from having to say something else by a shout from behind them.  "Hey, Bell!  Come on, we've got pictures to do!"

Bellamy's face adopted a bemused expression as he looked over Clarke's shoulder.  "Yeah, yeah, O, we're coming."  He winked at Clarke then put a hand on her waist, spinning her.

Bellamy's sister could only be described as ethereally beautiful in a fitted white lace dress, her black hair twisted intricately into knots and braids, cascading over one shoulder.  Her skin was lighter than her brother's but still tanner than you'd expect for this time of year and her eyes were the same, a mirror of Bellamy's.

"Clarke, this is my younger sister, Octavia, but today you can call her Bridezilla."  Clarke heard the chuckle in his voice as Octavia threw him a dirty look.

"Very funny, Bell."  Then she shifted her attention to Clarke and held out a hand.  "I'm Octavia, it's a pleasure to meet the girl my brother hasn't shut up about all week."

Shocked, Clarke turned her head to look at Bellamy whose cheeks were pink and suddenly wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Didn't you say pictures, O?" he asked.  "Why are we dawdling?"

Octavia laughed.  "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

 

The only way Clarke could think of to describe Octavia's fiancee was as a hulk of a man.  Lincoln was delightful and very polite (and also very handsome in his gray suit) but he was  _gigantic_ , all thick forearms and shaved head, and bulky mass.  Clarke was a bit intimidated by him at first until he shook her hand with a light but firm pressure and, in a soft voice said, "Pleasure, Clarke, we've heard a lot about you from Bellamy."

At that Bellamy had muttered something under his breath about the lot of them being traitors but Clarke might have heard that wrong.

Not only was Bellamy Lincoln's best man but he was also walking his sister down the aisle so they were spirited off about thirty minutes before the ceremony started for more pictures and to discuss a few last minute details.  Clarke was shown to a front row seat on the groom's side of the aisle that even had her name on it.

She stared at the neat printing,  _Clarke Griffin_ , for a minute before the attendant (because yes, of course there was a seating attendant) took the card and walked back up the aisle to seat the next set. _  
_

It didn't take her long into the ceremony to figure out why they'd sat her there.  Because she was sitting right in front of the best man.  And was able to shamelessly stare at Bellamy in that damn tuxedo that just got more and more attractive by the minute for the entirety of the wedding.  He caught her looking a few time and instead of looking away, embarrassed, she just smiled at him.

For which she got a dazzling smile in return that knocked the breath out of her a little.

It was a short ceremony, over within thirty minutes.  Their kiss was passionate but playful and Lincoln dipped her backwards in an impressive show of strength that had everyone standing and clapping.  The happiness reflected in their eyes as they linked hands and started their path down the aisle made Clarke's face break into a wide grin and she clapped harder, ignoring the sting of her palms.

"Nice, wasn't it?" a low voice asked in her ear.

She jumped a little but she knew without turning around that it was Bellamy.

"Beautiful," she replied softly, turning to look at him.

"And now onto the reception."  He offered her his arm and she linked hers through his elbow.  "There's even a free bar."

She laughed and he smiled at the sound.

 

There was in fact an open bar.  As well as more food than Clarke had ever seen in her life in one place and a hopping dance floor.

Octavia and Lincoln didn't separate from each other once and she barely saw them leave the dance floor, spinning slowly in the circle of each other's arms, too engrossed in their own world to notice their increasingly intoxicated guests who were starting in on the increasingly embarrassing and inappropriate dance moves.

Bellamy sat at a table next to her, nursing the glass of champagne he'd been working on for the last hour and pointed out the guests that he recognized.

"That's Katherine Cook," he whispered, pointing to a girl in a red dress who was... _shaking her head upside down?_ "She was the class basket case."

"Didn't grow out of it, either," Clarke observed.  Bellamy chuckled.  And that warm coil in her stomach that she'd become all too familiar with over the last few days made an appearance.

Really, his laugh just wasn't fair.

"Guess not," he whispered back then lapsed into silence.

She looked over at him to find him staring at her intently.  "What is it?" she asked, a hand flying to her face.  "Is there-"

"No, no," he said quickly.  "Umm, would you like to dance with me?"

She stood immediately.  "Yes.  I would very much like to dance with you."

His face split into what had to be the widest smile she'd ever seen.  Clarke's insides were doing cartwheels.

 _Fuck_ , she thought.   _Oh, fuck fuck fuck.  I am so screwed._

He led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her in close, wrapping both arms around her back, his palms pleasantly burning her skin through the fabric of her dress.  Her arms found their way under his own so her hands could wrap around the thickness of his shoulders.  One of her pinkies brushed the back of his neck over his collar and she felt his shiver.  She swallowed, then leaned her forehead lightly into his shoulder.

They moved silently for several minutes, not needing to talk, just taking pleasure in the other's company, knowing that it was them, just them there together, in their own world, for what could be the last time ever.

Finally, Clarke couldn't take the silence and the unspoken words hovering between them, any longer.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she began, "considering I literally just met you five days ago and barely even know you but..." she trailed off and picked up her head from his shoulder, pulling away just the smallest amount so she could look him in the eyes.  She could tell from the sadness reflected there that he knew what she was going to say.  "I'm going to miss you, Bellamy Blake."

She took one of her hands from its perch on her back and caressed his cheek gently.  His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into her touch.  Her heart squeezed.

How was this fair?  How could she have met such a wonderful, wonderful man by  _chance,_ had all these moments with him, had  _this_ with him, and then had it ripped away?  There had never been a chance for them, and she knew that, but she'd gotten herself into this mess of feelings anyway.

"Don't say that," he whispered back, eyes still closed.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because maybe this doesn't have to be the end."  His eyes snapped back open and they were so brown, so bottomless.  Clarke felt herself get lost in them, in the stark determination there.

"Why?" she asked again.

He bit his lip and her fingers skated across his cheekbone.  "Boston and New York are only a forty-five minute plane ride away."  He said it cautiously, carefully, like he wasn't quite sure what her response would be.

Clarke froze.  And he stopped with her.  They were a rock in the middle of a river of spinning couples.  "What?" she asked, surprise coloring her voice.

His hands slid from her back to her waist, grasping her carefully.  "We started something here, Clarke, I know it.  This doesn't have to be the end.  It can only be the beginning."

She would have been lying if she said her heart didn't skip a beat at his words.  Because this was what she wanted, right?  Bellamy.  Bellamy was what she wanted.  But--

"I don't have the money to fly to New York all the time," she admitted.

"Well, then it's a good thing my cousin's a flight attendant for JetBlue, isn't it?" he asked, a joking tone creeping in but still serious.

"You really want to do this?" she asked, a little bit breathless.

In response he leaned down and kissed her, soft and a little bit hard at the same time, conveying his meaning.   _Yes_ , he was serious.   _Yes_ , he wanted this.   _Yes,_ he wanted her.  And  _yes_ , he wanted to work for it, for her.

She felt the kiss turning just so slightly into "not safe for your sister's wedding reception" water so she pulled away to see a wordless question in his eyes.

"Yes," she said, feeling giddy.  "Okay.  Yes."

He beamed and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips.  One of her hands snuck its way into his hair, running through the curls she'd been aching to touch since he first fell asleep on her shoulder.  They were softer than she'd imagined.

His smile spread impossibly farther at the feeling and she tried to duck her head into his shoulder to hide her blush but he wouldn't let her.  Because now it was his turn to dip her into a low dive as he kissed her again.

And Clarke could taste the promise of what they might be in his smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally just supposed to be three chapters but I didn’t want to let the universe go just yet so this happened. It’s basically just 3,300 (good God) words of domestic fluff.

Clarke was pretty sure that she had never been this nervous in her life.  Not when she took the SAT, not when she gave her valedictorian speech at her high school graduation, not when she opened her first acceptance letter from med school.

She was standing in the arrivals area of Boston Logan Airport's Terminal A waiting for the arrival of JetBlue flight 118 from New York's JFK.  Bellamy's flight.

It was the first time she'd seen him since he, Octavia, and Lincoln dropped her off at the bus terminal the day after Octavia's wedding four months ago so Clarke could go back to school.  She'd missed him violently ever since and had been counting down the days to this moment ever since he'd booked his flight (at an extremely low price thanks to his flight attendant cousin).

She anxiously checked the flight arrival board for what had to be the hundredth time.  There was a slow but steady trickle of people coming out out the sliding doors but apparently his flight hadn't landed yet.  It was late, which she had known already of course because she'd been religiously checking her flight tracker app all day (sue her, she'd missed him).

Her phone chirped with a message and she knew who it was even before she pulled it out and scanned the screen.

 **Octavia B:** He there yet?

Clarke quickly typed back a negative response and shoved her phone back in her pocket.  She had been quizzing Octavia for days about her brother's favorite things and, as a result, had the perfect evening in planned for the two of them  _if he ever got there._

She checked the board again the middle-aged woman standing next to her chuckled.  "Who are you waiting for?" she asked, sidling a little bit closer.

Clarke blushed, feeling just the slightest bit awkward that she was being so obvious.  "My boyfriend," she said, feeling a small thrill go through her at the word as she did every time.

 _Bellamy Blake, New York University History Department Scholar in Residence.  Boyfriend of Clarke Griffin_.

Not that that was ever going to end up on a business card but she still felt warm and fuzzy on the inside thinking about it.

"You?" she asked the woman, more just to be polite than anything.

"My daughter.  She's coming home for the summer."

Clarke nodded.  "That's wonderful," she said honestly and the woman smiled at her.  "Have a nice weekend, dear."

"You, too," Clarke called after her but the words died in her throat because the doors were opening again, and there he was, face anxious, scanning the crowd, until they found her, waiting impatiently, and then there was that radiant smile she loved so much.

They met in the middle in a wide embrace and she'd missed  _this,_ missed  _him_ much more than she should have, considering it had only been four months and she'd only really been  _with_ him for less than a week.

"Hi," he whispered into her hair, arms tightening around her and she smiled into his neck.

"Hi," she breathed back.

"I missed you."

She pulled away and kissed him lightly.  "I missed you, too."

He smiled and kissed her again, deeper, longer, more lingering.  When he pulled back he said, "Octavia tells me you have, and I quote 'the greatest weekend ever' planned for me."  He grinned and Clarke laughed.

"You could say that.  Lots of history."

He slung and arm around her and shifted his grip on the overnight bag he had slung over his shoulder.  "I expect nothing less, princess."

 

Bellamy was one of the first guys Clarke had ever taken back to her apartment.

She had never been one for casual hookups and one night stands (usually she only partook in them after a particularly nasty breakup or when one of her friends told her to go out and  _have some fun, dammit_ ).

That's why, as soon as she turned the key in the lock of her apartment and pushed the door open, she'd been nervous.  Clarke wasn't messy but she wasn't necessarily clean either.  And from what she'd seen, Bellamy was an obsessive neat freak.  Then there was her distinctly feminine decor, from the blue upholstery of the fabric to the artsy flower prints on the wall, to the sunny yellow of her kitchen table.

But she needn't have worried.  The look on Bellamy's face as soon as he walked in the door made her heart melt a little, especially when he breathed, "This is  _you_ ," then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

But Clarke just smiled and leaned up swiftly on her toes to smack a kiss to his cheek.  His arm found its way around her waist again and he pulled her to him, almost like it was second nature already.  The easiness of the gesture made Clarke's heart ache.

While he was busy staring at the framed set of her senior pictures on the wall, she slipped his bag off his shoulder and deposited it in her bedroom next to the closet.  She'd let him decide later if he wanted to unpack.

She found him in the kitchen smiling at her place mats, of all things.

"Bell?"

He spun, a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"The place mats?  Really?"

He ran a hand through his hair, longer than it had been at the wedding, smiled sheepishly, and shrugged.

"I'm just trying to take it all in, you know?" he asked, gesturing to the curtains hanging over the windows, her salt and pepper shaker set, the magnets on the fridge.  "This is already better than I'd imagined," he admitted quietly and Clarke couldn't help the smile that took over her face as she stepped into the circle of his arms, feeling the soft flannel of his shirt against her cheek.

"I know I said it already, but I really missed you," she mumbled, as her hands came up to grasp his shoulders.

"I know, Princess," he said into the top of her head.  "Me, too."

They stayed like that, in the simplest of embraces, in Clarke's kitchen for what felt like eternity.  And all of the nervous energy that had building up in Clarke since the day Bellamy had surprised her over Skype with his flight reservation was suddenly gone.  She felt more at home than she had in months.  With a man she hadn't even known six months ago, and had barely spent four days with.

He still smelled the same, she'd noticed that at the airport, something dark and heady that she couldn't quite put her finger on.  And she'd missed the way that his hair brushed her forehead when he tipped her face up just slightly to kiss her cheek.

"But I am starving," he whispered into her neck.

Clarke laughed and pulled away.  "Then it's a good thing I got everything I need to make you tacos, isn't it?"

He beamed at her.  "You truly are the world's greatest girlfriend," he said, sliding up next to her and taking the items she pulled out of the fridge.

The word was affectionate and rolled off his tongue easily.  Clarke shivered a little at it.

"You talked to my sister, didn't you?" he asked slyly when she handed him a yellow bell pepper.

She smiled.  "Of course.  How else was I going to give you the best weekend ever?  I may know about your obsession with everything historical but your favorite food?  Movies?  Candy?  Not even close."

Bellamy hid his smile.  "I'm honored, Clarke.  Really."

Dinner was a resounding success.  They sat next to each other on the same side of Clarke's extremely small kitchen table, arms brushing more often than not, elbows knocking together, but neither of them complaining.  He told her about eight times that they were the greatest tacos he'd ever had, and by the sixth, Clarke started to believe him.

Over dinner she'd pulled out one of the Boston guidebooks she kept on her bookshelf for when her parents or out-of-state friends stayed with her.  He ate up the pictures, adopting that same focused expression that she remembered from their touring days in DC.

"It's hardly fair, princess," he said as she turned the page on Faneuil Hall, "that you get to show me around  _two_ cities and I haven't showed you around any.  You'll have to come to New York sometime soon so I can return the favor."

Clarke smiled to herself, thinking about the last and in her opinion, greatest, surprise she had planned for the weekend.  But that one would have to wait.  Instead she leaned into his side just slightly.  "I'd love to," she said and his answering smile made her heart skip a beat.

 

After they'd decided to try their hand at a relationship at Octavia's wedding, there had been no doubt that they were going to make it work.  Clarke had tried the long distance thing once before with her high school boyfriend when they first went away for undergrad.  She'd stayed in the DC area and gone to American on a hefty scholarship while Wells had gone halfway across the country to the University of Denver to study communications.

They'd made the relationship work for a couple months but by the end of winter break were forced to acknowledge that the relationship just wasn't working the way it was supposed to.  They'd broken it off cordially (much to the disappointment of their parents, who had probably been hoping they were going to get married) and were still casual acquaintances.  In fact, Clarke had met up with Wells and his new girlfriend, who was delightful, on one of the days that Bellamy had been occupied with Octavia and wedding festivities.

What she had with Bellamy though was completely different than anything she'd ever had with anyone else.  She'd never felt this passionate about anyone, never wanted to be around them so much.  Sometimes it terrified her but then there were the moments like this, where he was smiling at her with that radiant grin and babbling about how he'd wanted to see the King's Chapel graveyard since he was a kid, and Clarke just fell a bit farther for him.

She'd realized she was in love with him three weeks after she went back to Boston, over one of their nightly phone calls (they Skyped when they could but half the time he called her during his office hours when none of his students showed up) and he was explaining what he'd taught in his classes that day.  He'd been in the middle of a description of the Siege of Troy, and Clarke had almost blurted it out but she'd held herself back, not wanting to scare him.

Yet most of her knew that wasn't an option.  Because she had seen it in his eyes when she left for Boston, felt it in his touch when they'd danced at the reception, and heard it in his voice every time they'd spoken since.  Octavia had even told her.

 _Don't you dare break my brother's heart_ , she'd warned Clarke as she'd helped her pack for her return trip.   _Because if you do I'll break you._

And Clarke had replied that there was no chance.

Octavia had looked at her and nodded sharply.   _Good,_ she'd replied.   _Because I've never seen Bell so head over heels for a girl ever.  Let alone after a week_.

She saw it now, too, in the way he looked at her.  No one had ever looked at Clarke Griffin that way.  Like she'd hung the moon.  Like she was everything that mattered.  Like she was the sun and the stars.  Like she _mattered_.  It made her heart skip a beat and her breath come a little quicker, and she cleared away their plates just for something to do because if she didn't, she didn't know what she'd do.  Something embarrassing probably.

"There's cookie dough in the fridge," she said nonchalantly over the sound of the running sink.

Bellamy didn't say anything in response but she heard the sound of his footfalls and the open and close of the fridge as he retrieved the bowl.  "And it's my favorite kind," he observed drily.  "You were through."

She blushed and scrubbed harder at the sauce pan she was washing.  "I just wanted everything to be perfect," she told the sink, not meaning for him to hear.

But he obviously did because he was next to her in seconds, pushing her hair away from the side of her neck and pressing a lingering kiss there.  "Just being with you makes it perfect," he whispered then kissed her neck again, most insistently this time.

Her head lolled to the side as he moved up the column of her throat, hands stilling in the sink.  Then he nipped at her jawline and  _screw it_ , she was throwing the sponge somewhere onto the table and shaking off her hands just slightly, but they were still wet when she slid them into his hair because  _fuck_ , she loved his hair, and even more now that it was longer.

He jumped slightly at how cold and still slightly wet her fingers were and she smiled.  But his lips were tracing a steady trail from her neck across her cheek to the corner of her own, still smiling.  Then his mouth was over hers, and she finally got to  _really_ kiss him, and his hands were on her back, pulling her so tight against him she could barely breathe, and she didn't care.  Because now his hands were pushing up her shirt, nearly burning her skin, and she could feel his smile against her neck, and she was certain that she'd never been this happy in her life.

 

An hour later they were camped out on Clarke's couch, her head in Bellamy's lap and feet up on the opposite arm of the couch, while Bellamy poured over the albeit massive pile of History Channel documentaries she'd tracked down.

She was pretty sure he was now down to Hitler's End, The Lost Pyramid, and something about the origin of vampires.  She personally was rooting for the last one but she'd gotten them for him and ultimately, she wanted him to choose.

Bellamy's phone vibrated on the table as Hitler's End was added to the 'no' pile.  He was too distracted choosing between Egypt and vampires so Clarke reached out and snagged it, smiling when she saw the text from Octavia.

_Are you being nice to Clarke?_

Clarke glanced briefly up at Bellamy, who was still engrossed in the backs of the DVD covers and covertly snapped a picture of herself, sending it back to Octavia with the caption,  _He's been spoiling me.  Of course._

O texted back immediately with several smiley faces followed by  _You kids be safe and have fun._

Clarke rolled her eyes as she slid the phone back to its earlier position and he finally took notice, putting down one of the DVDs.

"Is that my phone?"

"It was your sister.  She wanted to make sure you were being  _nice_ to me."  She poked his side playfully and he smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And what did you tell her?"

"That you were spoiling me."

He grinned and slid out from under her so he could put the DVD in the player.  "I'd argue that  _you're_ the one who's spoiling  _me_."

"Well," she said as she lifted her head back up so he could sit down again, remote in hand, "You are the one who flew all the way here to see me."

It took him a while to respond and when he did it was quieter.  "I would fly anywhere to see you, Clarke Griffin."

She burrowed into his side, wrapping an arm around his middle as one of his own rested on the bare skin between her tank top and sleep shorts.

The opening credits of The Great Pyramid flashed across the screen and Clarke smiled.  Somehow she'd known that the ancient history buff in Bell was going to win out.  It was one of the things she loved most about him.  The way he saw the beauty in old things, broken things, things that no one else cared about. _  
_

Later when she led him by the hand into her bedroom, suddenly nervous again, he smiled at the blue flowers on her bedspread and the murals she'd drawn herself on her walls.

But he positively  _beamed_ at the framed photo on her bedside table.  It was of the two of them, one of the photos that they'd been forced into taking at Octavia's wedding.  They'd jokingly adopted "spy" poses, with their hands forming fake guns.  Octavia had chewed them out for it but the photographer had sent Clarke a couple copies on the sly.  She'd been immediately taken with the matching looks of juvenile delight on their faces and had known that there was no better place for it.

"You're on my bedside table, too," he told her as she opened one of her dresser drawers.  "The one from the Natural History Museum."

Clarke blushed as she remembered what picture he was talking about.  She'd been making some ridiculous pose with the famous T.Rex skeleton in the lobby.

"It's my favorite from that week," he added, sounding a bit embarrassed and Clarke could barely keep herself from grinning.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, shucking her shirt off and rummaging around in the drawer for a sleep shirt.

Then his forehead was resting against her bare shoulder and his hands were on her hips and she smiled, leaning her head onto his.  "You're beautiful, Clarke," he whispered into her skin.  "I hope you know that."

"You only tell me every day," she joked but she knew they both knew she wasn't joking.  "Thank you," she said, more seriously, after a pause.

He kissed her shoulder then pulled away, tossing a casual, "put a shirt on, I'm exhausted," over his shoulder.

She smiled and tugged an oversized sleep shirt over her shoulder then fell backwards onto the bed.  He pulled her into his side and nuzzled into her neck and smiled.

"I know it hasn't even been 24 hours yet," he said just when she was starting to drift off to sleep, "but I'm going to miss this when I have to go back to New York."

Clarke opened her mouth then closed it.  She'd been planning on waiting until the end of the weekend, maybe the morning she was taking him back to the airport, but she couldn't anymore.

"Well," she said, turning around in his arms.

He clearly caught on to her tone because his eyes snapped open.  "What?"

"I could tell you that it won't be four months until we see each other next."

His eyes were wary and he was scanning her face.  "How do you know?"

Clarke bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.  "Well," she said carefully, tracing one of his eyebrows with a finger.  "It might be because two days ago I found out I was accepted as a surgical resident at Mount Sinai."

He pulled back, eyes wide, shocked.  "Seriously?" he managed.

She nodded, grinning wildly.  "Yeah.  I start in a month and a half."

"Mount Sinai?"

She nodded again.

"That's in Manhattan."

"I know."

"I live in Manhattan."

"I know that, too."

He stared at her for a second longer before pulling her in to a bone crushing hug that she returned with equal force.

"I'm certain now, Clarke Griffin," he whispered into her hair, "I don't give a shit that it's only been four months.  You  _are_  my dream girl."

She smiled into the cotton of his shirt and whispered back, "Well that's good, Bellamy Blake.  Because that's exactly how I feel about you."

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me on [Tumblr?](http://maytheymeeetagain.tumblr.com)


End file.
